


Tromluí

by SlowestPoke



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Drinking to Cope, F/M, Lalafell Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Male Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Nightmares, Ow the Edge, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:33:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22517794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlowestPoke/pseuds/SlowestPoke
Summary: The monsters of the mind are the hardest to slay.
Relationships: Krile Mayer Baldesion/Warrior of Light
Kudos: 9





	Tromluí

The stars were beautiful that night. He was glad for the stars on nights like tonight, when the wind was gentle, and silence reined. Taking another pull from his glass he mildly flinched as the whiskey went down. Gods he hated the stuff, any straight alcohol honestly give him something fruity or sweet any day, but for tonight he couldn’t muster up the effort to make anything.

He hadn’t had a fit while he slept, for which he was extremely thankful; Krile needed her sleep, Twelve only knew how hard that woman worked and how often she placed the needs of others above herself. So as not to disturb her he had crept out of bed, freezing momentarily as she had shifted in her slumber, rolling over and then _lightly_ snoring before settling down. He smiled at the thought.

Then the blade went through her torso.

He shook his head, trying to erase the images before the memories could come flooding back. Might as well have been trying to hold back Dalamud by himself for all the good it did him. The white that came out of her, her cries for her mother, the tortured last words…

His utter helplessness to prevent any of it.

He took another pull from the glass, nearly draining it this time, and refilled it with the nearby bottle. He let the tears fall in silence.

“Are you planning on coming back to bed, or should I begin to worry about our relationship by being replaced with spirits?” Kill jolted from his reverie, Krile dragging his consciousness to the here and now by breaking the silence. He hadn’t even heard her get up.

“No,” he muttered, “no, I- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

She scoffed, the humor in her voice plain as she said, “You did not wake me, I awoke to use the lavatory and simply found you missing. Worry not your pretty little head about my beauty sleep.” Her hands were suddenly on his shoulders, lightly massaging them as she continued, “I worry about you, _Mo Ghrá_. What bothers you so?”

He hesitated, thinking about how best to answer. “What do you think happens to us when we die? I know the magical explanation, our souls merging with the aether of Hydaelyn, but what of us, about what makes us _us?_ Do we cease to be? Losing ourselves within Her embrace?”

“What brought all this on? You’ve been acting off ever since your foray to the First. What happened there?” Her worry was plain as day, written across her face like a mother whose child went off to war. Probably an apt analogy, he mused, all things considered.

“I’ve told you about the world being consumed in primordial light and their version of the voidborn, the sin eaters. But what I left out how they… repopulate,” he said as he twirled his glass, long since empty, “They don’t just spring from the aether. They gestate in a host, any living being with an aetheric signature, consuming them until there is nothing but light to fill them. Then the transformation begins.”

“I saw this happen. They have a hospice for those afflicted with it, out on the edge of their world in a desert. One of the wards wandered off, a boy no more than perhaps twelve summers…” He kept his voice as steady as he could, but the quivers kept coming as he pushed on. “Tesleen was one of the caretakers, caring to a fault. She tried to protect the boy when one of the larger sin eaters approached him. She was run though for her efforts, still desperately pleading for him to run. A-and then…” Gods he sounded weak, a mighty Warrior of Light brought to a quivering mess.

She held him then, gently stroking him as he quietly sobbed, silent in her comfort.

“S-she cried for her m-mother, just before the light consumed her. There was so much white, like plaster, running from her eyes and mouth. It cocooned her, and out came a twisted creature. But her face… it still had her _face_ Krile! And she was aware of it all, calling out to Alisaie to forgive her as she left with the bigger one.”

She held him until the sobs ended. Having worn himself out in his sorrow she coaxed him back to bed, tucked him in and cradled his head, gently stroking his hair while softly singing in the old tongue.

At last, blissful darkness overtook him and his consciousness faded.

**Author's Note:**

> My first story involving my FF14 character, and the first story I've written in... eighteen years? Something like that. Didn't know what to really rate this but listed as Mature for the themes within. This takes place after finding Alisaie on the First. Feel free to offer any critiques, commentary, whatever; I appreciate the feedback.


End file.
